Welcome to Gaia! ::

Above the weathered trunk that Micajah had leaned himself upon was young Wynn, curled against the branches that he was hugging for balance. He raised his brows as the familiar person settled himself below him and the Inuk youth realized that this wasn't just a familiar person, but the first person he had met here on campus: Micajah! He didn't really know the other boy other than what he had seen before when the kind teen showed him around campus, but he did know that he was nice. Not only that, but Wynn was needing to make some new friends. He was positive that he didn't want to stay cramped up in his room moping forever.

So, carefully lowering himself down from branch to branch, the Inuk descended and fell to the ground with a unceremonious plop. As he landed, his legs wobbled and with a slight sound, Wynn lost his balance and fell back so that he was almost perfectly sitting beside the blond haired Magic student.

"Micajah!" Wynn exploded happily.

As Wynn settled himself on the floor, folding his legs and stretching his shoulders, he watched warily from the corner of his eye as Micajah jumped away and then scooted back as bright as frost-bitten cheeks. Honestly, Wynn didn't see the reason for his surprise. He thought of himself being actually quite loud and clumsy as he descended through the leafy branches. Anyone would've been able to hear him in a forest.

"Only me," the Native American Inuk reassured with the calm lift of his brows. He began at working his legs so that his feet rested on top of his thighs while they were crossed. It was a good stretch and Wynn leaned forward so that he doubled himself over. The pull of his back muscles felt good as he stretched and then he released himself, sitting straight and more relaxed than before.

This time, he didn't carry a hot coco travel mug. He was trying to wean himself off from it so that he didn't go nuts in the classrooms where he couldn't bring in drinks.

"Well," Wynn replied to Micajah's question, absently gazing off towards the sky, "You? What are you doing?"

Wynn leaned over at the mention of beads, a familiar topic. Beading was one of the things the womenfolk would do at his home when they constructed clothing for the winter. The frays at the hems of their clothing had beads, their hoods and gloves as well as pants and boots. It was a way that they could take art and make it into something that they used every day. Unlike others who would hang art on a wall, he and his people liked to become a part of the art themselves, make their own bodies into canvases to display the heart of their handiwork.

Wynn's face brightened at this, and he scooted himself closer so he could see the beads for himself. "Beading?" Wynn asked, his voice excited, "I know beads. I know them."

The young baby-cheeked Inuk nodded his affirmation to the other's observation. He was Native American, and he was proud. "Beading is art, tells story," Wynn said softly, giving a pound to his chest where his beating organ lay underneath layers of skin, muscle, and bone.

When he was offered to also try his hands at beading, the corners of Wynn's mouth twitched up into a rare smile. He gave another nod to his head, making his chocolate bangs bounce on his forehead. He was intrigued by this idea of making things, an activity he had almost thought to have left behind. He listened intently to the different things he could make and Wynn was particularly attracted to the idea of adding something to his hair. It would be a reminder, a kind of token that called for strength...Something that Wynn could use right now.

"Hair wrap," Wynn said, "With beads."

Wynn almost flinched away when the other student reached out to measure his hair, but like a skittish horse learning the face of his new caretaker, Wynn calmed. He realized then, as Micajah pulled away to dig through his beads and tools, that his hair was rather short. He couldn't even tie it in the back without it spitting back his bangs and the stubby ponytail that it left in the back was hardly worth keeping. Wynn would rather just keep his short hair down until it grew out long enough for him to braid it or tie it up in the back. For now, though, it looked like Wynn would keep with the wrap just hanging in his hair.

"Hanging," Wynn said watching as the other politely dumped a tangle of beads and a case into his lap. Delighted with the crafts put before him, Wynn made sure to give one more glance towards Micajah's direction, a kind of "making sure" glimpse, before he started inspecting the beads.

Chrysocolla, a shimmering blue turquoise stone that symbolized and brought on strength. Wynn found that bead first and placed it in his palm, along with others of its like. He knew it also helped with stress and worries, something he knew he would need in this new environment, as well as easing sorrow. It had many uses, of which, Wynn knew only because the general store had a gift aisle where these stones and beads were sold. From the beads he was given, Wynn also picked Amber and Aquamarine for nature, what he felt most in tune with, even more so than himself. For his last, he picked Moonstone, for healing and tiger eye stones that matched his eyes.

"These ones," Wynn said holding them out for Micajah to look at, "It's okay?"

Wynn glanced at the beads rolling in his unnaturally sweaty palms. While a nervous pang twisted his stomach when he realized that he hadn't brought his gloves to hide his hands, Wynn wondered. He hadn't purposefully done that, in fact, he had no regards towards the color of the clothes he might or might not be wearing. His sense of fashion never once passed through his mind. But then again, Wynn's sense of fashion wasn't anything more than traditional clothing and "what to wear when it was cold".

Now that he was reminded about the bareness of his hands, the exposure of his peeling skin and raw fingertips, Wynn suddenly grew nervous and wary. He quickly closed them into tight fists, bundling his beads in his wet grip.

Distractedly trying to piece together what Mica had instructed him to do from his memory, Wynn took the throng of leather and started working one end of it into a tight knot. He made sure to pull it into as tight a knot as he could muster before he started to slip beads onto the leather. As he slipped one of the beads on, it was to Wynn's dismay that it popped out of his slippery grip and bounced away across the concrete.

Knitting his brows and trying to twitch the ends of his mouth into a rare and forced smile, Wynn knew that this moment might just end up exposing his secret. He didn't want to open up his palm, that would just be pointless because it would show his blistered peeling hands. He didn't want to somehow brush his sweaty fingertips against Mica's either. It just, it didn't make sense no matter which way he looked at it. The best chance he had to keep Micajah's suspicions averted would be to pluck the bead out of his finger tips.

"Fine, fine," Wynn assured the other awkwardly, "I did."

Reaching forward, Wynn cautiously tried to pinch the bead between his thumb and forefingers, but his slippery fingertips simply made the bead pop loose again. Inwardly, Wynn cursed at himself and gave an apologetic glance towards Micajah.